Obsession
by Isabeau de Foix
Summary: Draco Malfoy has done many terrible things throughout his life. What else could be expected from a Death Eater and the son of Lucius Malfoy? Yet his most terrible act is yet to come, encompassing a certain Hermione Granger, the object of his obsession DAR
1. Chapter 1

**Obsession **

**Chapter 1**

He rolled his eyes for what felt like the hundredth time in the past ten minutes, as he stifled a yawn. It was official, Ronald Weasley was quite possibly the most annoying, not to mention dimwitted human being to plague the planet. He really knew how to waste the Order's time. Currently, he was going on about his new suspicion regarding Snape's supposed plot to kill them all by forcing them to ingest the potions they prepared in class. Apparently, this of course was all part of Voldemort's master plan of world domination, hence he could not be trusted as being part of the Order.

Clearly.

As per usual, Sunday morning had found Draco Malfoy in a foul mood. You may be wondering why this is. The answer is rather simple, really. You see dear reader, instead of being allowed to sleep in, the young Mr. Malfoy was forced to attend the weekly meeting of the Order of the Phoenix.

The secret meeting mind you. Insert eye roll here.

Thus there he was, at nine in the bloody morning, a splitting headache reminding him of memories from the previous night's activities or rather lack thereof. He still wondered who had produced those damn scratch marks on his back. Apparently even when drunk beyond measure, Draco Malfoy was still quite able to please the women.

The thought caused a smirk to appear on his lips, earning him a rather strange look from the witch facing him across the table, none other than the famed Hermione Granger. He raised a blonde eyebrow in return, and licked his lips suggestively earning a small gasp accompanied by the reddening of her cheeks.

Typical prude behaviour.

Draco's thoughts were once again focused on the matter at hand as Weasely made a rather ridiculous point in his prolonged and utterly useless monologue. Apparently, to support his point in regards to Snape, Weasely believed that the former had indeed tried to poison him when he was forced to test the lucidity potion that they had to make in the previous class. Draco had really had enough.

"Tell me Weasel, if Snape's plot is indeed to kill us all, how is it that only you and Longbottom are on the receiving end?" he questioned in a condescending voice. In mock astonishment he continued, "Did it ever cross your mind that perhaps you're such crap at potions that you inflict said results upon yourself? If I remember correctly you were the person who stupidly used toad's blood instead of frog's blood in the shrinking potion and had it blow up in your face."

This of course elicited a laugh from the crowd, even uptight Granger, and also caused the wizard in question to turn tomato red in anger.

"Now then, I feel that I am correct in assuming that the pointless subject of this meeting has been more than established. Shall we leave it at that before Weasely makes any more accusations fuelled by his own incompetence?"

People around the room nodded in agreement, even Potter reluctantly, and began standing to exit.

Draco immediately stood, already planning on a hot shower and perhaps a potion for his headache. Before he was able to bolt out of the room though, he was cornered by Granger.

"You know you could try being a bit nicer to him," she stated with a look of annoyance marring her features.

"Aw standing up for your boyfriend, how cute," he mocked.

"He's not my boyfriend, and I'm simply standing up for him because you always seem to pick on him when you're in a foul mood. Stop acting so high and mighty Malfoy, it was your choice to be part of this, no one forced you," she replied angrily before stomping off.

Malfoy regarded her retreating figure for a few seconds, before making his was in the opposite direction.

By this point you may be fairly confused dear reader. You may ask, why in Merlin's name would Draco Malfoy willing join and be accepted in the Order of the Phoenix, dark background, death eater father and such.

The answer is simple: for spying purposes of course. You see, the skull tattoo on his upper arm indicated that he is indeed a Death Eater, as is the popular belief. A childish mistake on his behalf. However, it allows entrance to the elite group and their secretive meetings, which of course grants him access to a great deal of knowledge that would undoubtedly help the Order. Though risky, he loved the thrill of it.

Also, his status as member of the Order provided him with plenty useful information to report back to Voldemort.

A double agent you may say.

Though now you may be wondering as to where his true allegiances really are. Truthfully, that's a rather ambiguous notion, for they lie to whichever side brings him most advantage. It's a rather simple notion. Why ever should he bother with silly loyalties, when he can wait it out and know that either way he is secure? The key to his plan is simply staying out of the true limelight and providing information when absolutely necessary. That way he would not arise any suspicion. He would definitely remember to bring up that bit about Snape trying to poison everyone at the next Death Eater meeting.

Draco Malfoy did however have a second, more important goal to accomplish that was catered particularly to his own needs and desires. Usually, what Draco Malfoy wanted he got, yet this particular matter would take longer than initially believed.

You see, for the better half of his years at Hogwarts, particularly staring in his third year, Draco Malfoy has had a rather unhealthy obsession with a certain muggleborn, and Gryffindor's one and only Princess, Hermione Granger. Odd indeed, however, it has been something that has tormented him day and night. The fact that she had subtly changed over the years didn't help either.

Though not conventionally beautiful, she held a certain appeal to him. Her long legs were accentuated by her tall, slim figure. Though she continued to wear abnormally long skirts and baggy oxford shirts, he could still imagine what she looked like naked. Her hair though still a mess of wild curls gave her the image of just having gotten out of bed, following a series of rather naughty activities. Her skin, or at least the exposed parts of it, was creamy pale contrasting sharply with her amber coloured eyes, and lustrous red lips.

He could practically picture those particular lips sucking his cock as she kneeled before him. He definitely planned to see to it as soon as possible. As soon as he made her his that is, four our young miss Granger had not even the slightest idea as to Draco Malfoy's unhealthy obsession.

But that was no problem at all for his plan covered every aspect of the dilemma. You see, it was all fairly simple yet clever. He had clawed his way into the Order, burrowing deep enough to establish their trust, including that of Granger. Though he didn't get along with most of the Gryfindorks, they still trusted him fully, thus it was an appropriate time to act.

What he planned to do is corner young miss Granger within the next few days, if not hours, and set his plan in motion. What he intended to do was manipulate the situation towards his own advantage, and suggest that if she did not do as told, he would divulge every bit of information to Voldemort, who would have them all cornered before the night's end. Being the Gryfindor that she was, he was more than certain that she would not refuse, nor would she tell anyone. But in order to secure that point, he would of course place a charm on her that would immediately inform him if she were to tell anyone so that he could of course act to save his own skin. Or maybe he'd look up a charm that did not permit her to speak a word.

Either way it was rather ingenious. Some may call it barbaric blackmail, but he called it cunning.

That thought in mind, Draco Malfoy swiftly proceeded towards his room to get started on the morning's activities, and plan his first move. A reassured smirk was confidently placed on his lips, with the effect of leaving those around rather unsettled as to its cause.

If only the certain witch in question knew, she would certainly have to be if only a bit worried, for after all, a Malfoy always got what he wanted.

Hello everyone, so this idea has been plaguing me for a while so I decided to put it on paper, or rather on Microsoft Word. This is purely the first chapter, and I know it's rather short but the upcoming ones I promise will be much longer. So please, do drop me a line or two to tell me whether I should continue with this or not, your input is of great importance to me.


	2. Chapter 2

She furiously walked away in the opposite direction only slowing down once she had turned a corner. Hermione Granger did not like Draco Malfoy nor did she trust him. She still did not comprehend why the rest of the Order trusted the slimy snake.

Though he was semi right in putting an end to Ron's banter, which had been outlandish to say the least, he had no right to do it in such a boorish manner.

Who did he think he is?

She furiously stormed into her dormitory. Since she was Head Girl, she received her own, private room, located on the seventh floor. Though it wasn't anything ostentatious, it contained all the indispensable requirements and more.

Once one entered, he or she was greeted by a blazing, warm fire in her small sitting room. Though modestly sized, the room contained a plush sofa, a low coffee table and an armchair located in front of the fire perfect for reading. The window to the room offered a view of the lake and Forbidden Forrest, which proved to be quite spectacular in the early hours of the morning when the sun slowly rose above the crimson horizon. Opposite the fireplace was a bookshelf containing a variety of tomes, many of which Hermione had already read. Connected to this area was a small kitchenette, which proved quite useful during late night study sessions.

Her bedroom was located up a two step rise and through a carved mahogany door. The bedroom too was of moderate size containing a large four poster bed draped in gold and scarlet in honour of her House. Opposite the bed was a vanity, and next to it was a large wardrobe for her clothing. The room also offered the same view as the living area. Next to the window there was a small desk at which Hermione often sat to do her homework. Opposite the window there was a door that led to Hermione's own private bathroom. This was probably the one thing she absolutely adored about her dormitory. The bathroom contained a moderate sized bath, nowhere near as large as those in the prefect's bathrooms but decent none the less. Hermione often took long relaxing baths to sooth her muscles and brain after a tiring week of school.

She slowly sat on the bed, trying to clear her head of all thoughts Malfoy related. How she detested him!

What scared her though, was the way he looked at her sometimes, when he wasn't busy being a complete git. His eyes held things that made her blush when she thought of it. Almost like he wanted to take her right then and there.

She would often find him staring at her like that during meals. If she ever made eye contact with him he would continue staring for a few more seconds, as if silently promising her things that would curl her toes. But once he looked away, the spell would be broken, leaving her dazed and confused, unable to pay attention to her food.

She never allowed herself to believe anything good would come out of these glances, thus scaring her even more as to his intentions. There was something almost sinister that surrounded his pale gaze.

The thought caused an electric shiver down her spine, which caused her to stand up and walk to the bathroom. She glanced at herself in the mirror, examining her features. Nothing special or deserving of prolonged attention, she concluded, thus once again wondering what exactly Malfoy continuously stared at.

His behaviour confused her to no end, not to mention that she did not trust him. She knew this whole thing had to hold something for him, for Draco Malfoy would never help others without serving his self interest first.

And then of course there was the problem of Ron, she thought with a sigh.

Over the summer and the past year, he had changed, not necessarily in a good way. He had drastically grown in height and mass, now towering over her. Also, the long hours of quidditch had made him more bulky and muscular. This in itself was not the problem though. What made her uneasy was the way he had become around her, and others for that matter.

Ronald Weasley had become quite the arrogant git in recent months.

Hermione's little crush on Ron had ceased to exist a long time ago, permitting her to only perceive him as a friend, and thus become more critical of his behaviour.

He, on his own part had started gaining some attention for the girls of Hogwarts and had more precisely been acquainted with the physical pleasures they could bring. These days, he was with a different girl every week, and if that didn't work, there was always Lavender. But he also acted towards her the same way, making strange and unwelcomed advances, putting his arm around her and invading her personal space far too often.

To summarize, Ronald Weasely made her even more uncomfortable than Malfoy did, these days. Malfoy was a slimy cad, and any negative behaviour was expected of him. She had however, grown up with Ron thus making his new attitude rather hard to swallow.

Sighing in frustration, Hermione decided that a long bath would be quite welcome and perhaps a good book was also needed to pacify her mind.

**oOo**

While eating dinner in the Great Hall the following evening, Draco Malfoy decided it was time to strike. Though rather out of the blue, his decision was really an outcome of watching Granger under hooded eyes. She currently sat with her friends, looking somewhat uncomfortable as she pushed her food around her plate.

She had barely eaten anything.

Next to her sat Weasely, his arm loosely draped around her shoulders laughing vulgarly with his mouth hanging open for everyone to see his dinner. The oaf's lack of manners was truly disgusting.

What caused him to make his decision was precisely this display. Who did Weasely think he was, acting as if he owned her? She belonged to him, or would very soon at least, and he did not want anyone else touching her like that.

Not in public.

Especially not Weasley.

Truthfully speaking, he wasn't exactly sure why he felt this way. It just happened over time, really. After much deliberation he had concluded that his obsession with Granger had taken root soon after third year, when she had punched him, quite hard.

Yes, he had hated her for a while.

Hated her more than usual.

He had despised her for humiliating him like that in front of others. But his hate soon turned into something else; it turned into intrigue.

Truthfully, she had been one of the few people to touch him up to that point in his life. As a child, he had often been deprived of the warm comfort of human touch. Such things led to weakness, which was quite an undesirable trait for a Malfoy. Even when punishing him, his father would rather use his wand than actually touch him. At that point in his life, he could have easily counted the times another human being purposely touched him, and there were only a hand full.

He often wondered, though he did not show it, if there was something wrong with him. He would always watch his fellow school mates receive warm hugs before climbing onto the Hogwarts Express for another school year.

He was never part of such a display.

He remembered the only time his mother had ever embraced him was at the end of fifth year, when his father had been sent to Azkaban following the events that occurred in the Department of Mysteries as the Ministry of Magic. Even then though, she hesitated.

But Granger hadn't hesitated.

For that, he admired her, and had come to desire her.

He decided that for the time being, he would try to seduce her rather than have her by force, as he had initially planned. If his seduction worker, things would undoubtedly go much smoother than first foreseen.

With a predatory smirk, he stood, exiting the great hall precisely two minutes after Granger had. If all went well, his plan would be set into motion that very evening. Based on the look on her face as she had left, he did not doubt its success.

**oOo**

Hermione found herself aimlessly walking through the halls of Hogwarts before finally deciding that she was suffocating. She needed air, fresh, cold air.

She didn't bother retrieving her cloak before walking out the main entrance of the castle, and onto the still green grass. She began to walk, and realized only after a few minutes that she was making her way towards the Great Lake.

She wasn't sure what had possessed her to do so, but did not decide against it.

It was a beautiful evening. The moon was full, and still hung low against the background of the inky sky. It was brilliantly big, bathing the surroundings in its ethereal silvery light. It was not warm outside, something Hermione was glad for. The cool air shocked her system, cleansing her mind and senses.

It was exactly what she needed at the moment to calm herself.

Truthfully, there hadn't been a particular event that had compelled her to leave. The combination of activities surrounding her had slowly driven her mad. Harry and Ginny had been sitting together, sickeningly happy with just embracing and kissing one another, while in the mean time ignoring everyone else.

Ron had eventually removed is hand, or rather, he had been forced to do so by Hermione's glacial reactions to him. He spent the rest of the time exchanging innuendos with Lavender, whose hand had been placed in his lap the entire time, doing Merlin knows what.

It was the first in a very long time that Hermione felt truly alone. She felt as alone as she had felt in the first few months of her first year, when she had been shunned by all either due to her undesirable blood, or stuck up ways.

She hadn't been truly happy in a very long time. Now that she thought about it, she couldn't really remember the last time she had been contented. These days, she had nothing to look forward to. Everyday getting out of bed became a bit more difficult as she was faced with what felt like a perpetual array of Monday mornings.

She finally reached the lake, and with a sigh, decided to sit down. As much as she loathed to admit it, she really missed human company. Her books, though fascinating, were not adequate substitutes as many believed.

She tried to push all of these thoughts out of her head as she looked over the surface of the lake. Considering the times the wizarding world was currently facing, she realized it probably wasn't the safest of things to be sitting out alone at night, susceptible to any attack. Truthfully though, she didn't care. If she were to die right then and there, she doubted anyone would miss her or even realize.

She felt a stray tear run down her cheek but she did not attempt to displace it. She didn't know when things got quite so complex. Just a year ago, everything had been fine, though the threat of Voldemort still loomed over them. The past summer, however, had changed everything for her. Ron had turned into a completely different person. As for Harry, though she still loved him like a brother, she could tell that he was slowly giving up. This was the only explanation she could formulate as to why he decided to finally be with Ginny. He just didn't care anymore. He wanted to enjoy his life, or at least what remained of it.

"You know Granger, you shouldn't be sitting here by yourself, all alone, at night," drawled a voice from behind her, chilling her to the very core. She immediately attempted to rise, but was gently pushed back down. "The fact that you're a girl doesn't make the situation any better, either. Do you realize how many horrible people are out there who would use this situation to their advantage?"

"W-what do you want Malfoy?" she whispered. His words sent a tremor of fear down her spine though she wasn't sure how to react. She turned around to face him, attempting to put on her most courageous face.

"Many things really. You're one of them," he stated matter-of-factly, his silver eyes boring deep into her own as he took a seat next to her. "Calm down, I don't plan on causing you any harm. I was merely stating the risks. You know, you can never be too cautious."

She regarded him silently for a few moments, taking in his quidditch robes and broom. She concluded that he had been out practicing, and had not followed her as she had first assumed. She let her guard down momentarily, sighing in relief that it had been him and no one else, though he was far from being one of her favourite people. She did not attempt to analyze his previous words.

"So tell me Granger, why is it that you're out here all alone? Are you attempting to catch hypothermia? I hear it's not a very great way to die. Not very glamorous."

"I needed some air," she replied mysteriously, not looking at him.

"Is that why you were crying, because you needed air?" he questioned, grabbing her chin in his hand and turning it gently so that she faced him. He then gently wiped a stray tear away, his long finger pulling away as he examined the bead of liquid.

"It is of no concern to you. I believe that it is my rightful decision to cry and where I chose to do so. So please, just leave me be," she replied turning away and gazing sadly at the lake in front of her eyes. "If I'm lucky, maybe the giant squid will decide on an evening snack and end my misery."

"It may not be of any concern to me, but I do not particularly wish to see anything bad happening to you. It's rather sad that I seem to be the only one that notices that you haven't been yourself lately," he replied, forcing her to gaze at him once more. She grudgingly realized he looked stunning in the moonlight, his pale skin looking almost otherworldly. "You previous monologue only further cemented that fact, thus you must now tell me what ails you."

She sighed, realizing that she was too tired to argue with him. "Everything's wrong," he replied shortly.

"I think I need a bit more insight than that, Granger,"

"That I cannot provide, for I myself don't really know what wrong. I'm despondent. I've been this way for a very long time, and the people around me don't really seem to be helping the matter, not that I expect them to," she said, barely above a whisper in a quivering voice. "As wrong as it may be to say this, I'm just tired of life, and I don't see this feeling changing any time soon."

"I never took you for the suicidal type," he replied. "You shouldn't say such things though because the universe may just listen to you one of these days."

"Now that wouldn't be so terrible."

"On the contrary, there are many people who love you. Think of your parents at least," he tried in exasperation.

"They're dead," she replied dryly, not even blinking. "You friends eliminated them."

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't realize..." he trailed off, at a loss for words. Apparently there was a first for everything. He wasn't quite sure how to proceed, not having realized that the girl was in such a deplorable mental state. Something had to be done immediately, if not he doubted he'd even have a chance with her unless he took an interest into necrophilia.

"That's understandable. Now I do suggest you leave me be before I depress you even further. It's terribly unhealthy, you know," she concluded, turning around to face him once more a sardonic smile tugging at her lips. He didn't say anything though, he simply leaned over, and before she was able to protest, he kissed her.

**oOo**

So here's the second chapter. Leave me a review and tell me what you think. Don't worry, this fic will still be dark enough, but that part will come soon enough. SO leave me a review and tell me what you think? On a side note, I also wish to share that I have found the real Draco Malfoy, or rather, I work with him. The resemblance is quite amazing, though he is a bit more tanned. Obviously I will not be freaking the poor guy out by sharing any of this, but I thought you guys would understand the importance of this.

SO anyway, drop me a line, tell me what you think!

-Isabeau


	3. Chapter 3

His lips were soft and rather enticing, she noted as she realized what was happening to her. She didn't struggle at first nor did she respond in any way, she merely allowed her brain to run a mile a minute, attempting to analyze what was happening, as he continued to coax her lips into responsiveness.

After a few brief seconds, though, she pushed him away with a sight.

"What was that?" she asked, though it did not come out sounding as outraged as she had initially intended. A wicked smile crossed his lips as he gazed at her. He had expected her to scream bloody murder, slap him and then dash towards the castle in a hump of outrage. She did none of the former, merely gazing at him curiously, awaiting his answer.

"I don't know, but it did get you to stop talking, did it not?" he replied, a devilish glint in his eyes.

"You know Malfoy, you shouldn't play with fire, I hear that it can have quite devastating effects," she replied mysteriously, gazing at the lake once more.

"What can I say; I rather like living on the wild side. Is that so wrong?" he replied, settling his gaze on the inky sky. "It certainly makes life more interesting."

"Hmm, I suppose," she replied airily, still not looking at him.

"I daresay that's exactly what you need, Granger. A good dose of excitement would surely cure you of this affliction of yours," he continued in the same nonchalant voice. He picked up a stone an expertly flicked it across the murky surface of the lake, disturbing its previous tranquility.

"I didn't realize you were also a healer now, my mistake," she sarcastically replied. "But pray tell, dear Malfoy, if we were to hypothetically go along with your suggestion, what type of excitement would be potent enough to cure me, because I highly doubt that your referring to riding a hippogriff type of excitement?" she questions, her amber eyes holding a challenge as they rested on his face.

Her question earned a light chuckle as he rested his eyes on her face, taking in every detail. "Well it would certainly involve some type of riding I daresay," he grinned, earning a dark scowl from her. "But for the sake of our little thought experiment, let me properly describe it to you."

"By excitement, I don't mean the excitement of, say, a new book. That's far too trivial and safe. It would wear off far too fast, and render you back into this depression of yours even deeper than before. The type of excitement I'm referring to, involves risk," he paused for effect.

"Go on, what type of risk are we speaking of here?" she questioned, half interested to hear what he had to say.

"Well that's up to you. It can involve any type of risk. For example, it could be confronting a deep dark fear of yours; Merlin knows we all have those."

"I would just like to interrupt you to point out that hell has surely frozen over. I daresay I hear Lucifer screaming in agony at the mere thought of a Malfoy admitting to have fears," she said with a smirk.

"As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted," he continued with a role of his eyes. "My little plan's already working. I already have you joking, and is that a smile I detect?"

"There's nothing wrong with joking, especially when it is at your expense. However, I don't see how it's in anyway relevant with taking risks?"

"Simple, my dear, to you, I'm a risk," he stated looking his eyes on her. She dramatically rolled her eyes in protest to his comment, "No I'm serious. Would you under any circumstances be sitting here having a civil conversation with me of all people?"

"So you're saying that you're the cure for this so called affliction because you can make me smile? That's not a very good argument, Malfoy. Your logic is rather off. You're causing me to think you just might be losing your touch."

"I assure you that I am not. I'm much better at this than you may think. The problem, however, is that you fail to admit it, thus I am forced to convince you through actions rather than words," he said standing up and extending a hand towards her. She considered his gesture for a few seconds before accepting his hand and standing.

He pulled her up swiftly, depicting greater strength than Hermione would have attributed him, before leading her out onto the field.

She noted that he had yet to let go of her hand.

"Are you planning on telling me where we're headed?" she asked, eyeing him with something similar to mistrust.

"Perhaps, though you'll find out soon enough. Think of what we're doing as another thought experiment."

"Oh another one meant to prove that you're the risk worth taking?" she challenged, an impish smile twisted on her lips.

"I'm not as conceited as you might think. I've decided it would be better to convince you gradually, taking each necessary step, so for now I simply wish to convince you that a risk, any risk, would certainly lighten your disposition," he replied, stopping in the middle of the field. She only then realized that he still held his broom, which was now in his extended hand.

"Surely you are not suggesting what I think you might be?" she asked, a look of utter horror marring her previously calm features.

"I told you it may involve riding," he replied with a wicked smile as he mounted the broom. "Now sit in front of me."

"Not bloody likely," she replied in a shrill voice as she slowly began to back away. "For all I know you might let me fall to my death."

"Oh come on Granger, I thought you were a Gryffindor not a Hufflepuff. Where's all of that famous courage of yours?" he asked, but received no answer. He sighed, before continuing, "How about if I tell you that you don't have anything to lose. One of two things can happen if you accept my offer. You will either fall to your death and receive your previous wish, in which case the universe has listened to you. Or you will come out alive, and convinced of my point."

She regarded him for a few seconds before sighing in defeat and mounting the broom.

"Good girl," he murmured into her ear, warm breath causing her hair to stand on end. He then kicked off the ground, soaring up into the sky at an alarmingly fast rate. She held onto the broom beneath her for dear life, instinctively clenching her eyes shut tight. She reasoned that if she didn't see it happening, she could convince herself that it wasn't.

"Open your eyes," he ordered, his hot breath on his neck. "There's no point in going through life with your eyes closed."

She considered his argument for a few seconds before mentally agreeing with him. She slowly opened her eyes, noting that they had stopped moving.

"Now look, and do try to relax. You're as stiff as a board," he murmured gently, his voice hypnotizing her into obedience. "I won't let you fall, nor do I bite, unless previously asked, of course"

She attempted to relax a bit, though she was terrified. She glanced around and realized that they were merely floating in thin air, right above the great lake. The rational side of her wanted to scream until she lost her voice. The other half, however, the irrational, passionate, erratic side was enthralled by the lovely view.

The silvery full moon bathed the surroundings in an ethereal pale light that seemed to almost sparckle with magic. The lake beneath them was inky black, and tranquil, almost enticing one into its mysterious depths. The waters were studded by millions of tiny bright lights, mirroring the star encrusted sky above.

It was also cold though.

She could see her breath come out in small puffs of condensation. She realized that her body was practically numb from the chill, her knuckles already having turned blue. At the moment though, the view was so enticing it caused her to not accord her condition another thought. She wished there was some way to bottle what she was feeling. It wasn't happiness, but a sense of contentment, of tranquility, of amazement.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Malfoy said behind her. She had forgotten he was even there, suddenly becoming aware of his hard chest pressed against her back.

"It is. I only wish there was another way of admiring such beauty," she said rather wistfully.

"There is," he replied, gently guiding the broom back towards the castle, though he did not veer downwards. They smoothly landed on top of the level surface of one of the towers. Hermione gladly stepped off the broom, taking in the delightful surroundings.

"This is spectacular! How did you find this place?" she asked, unspoken wonder filling her amber eyes.

"You may know Hogwarts: A History off by heart, but I know this entire castle off by heart," he replied, advancing towards her. "So, pray tell, is there any truth behind my theory?"

"I suppose there might be some," she replied, not meeting his eyes. She hated loosing an argument.

"The flush of your cheeks and smile on your face give you away, you know. You always turn red when you're happy," he said, looking down at her.

"And how would you know that, Malfoy? Stalking me are we?" she challenged with a raised eyebrow.

"Don't flatter yourself," he replied cockily advancing towards her until he was mere inches away. "I'm just more observant than you may think. You would be astounded by the things you learn just from watching those around you more closely."

She glanced up at him with questioning eyes of liquid gold, her lips slightly parted. He was right, she acknowledged grudgingly. She had enjoyed the broom right, however, standing up there with only him for company gave her more of a thrill. He was dangerous. The pale moonlight only added to his allure, making him look like the fallen Lucifer in all of his glory.

He bent towards her slightly and ever so slowly. Her heart began to flutter as she wondered whether he would kiss her again.

He did not.

"Remember what I said, Granger," he whispered to her, sensually licking his lips. "Take a risk once in a while. They make life so much more delicious. We both know you're not a saint so stop restraining yourself like one. Live a little. I'll be sure to teach you how it's done."

He winked at her before grabbing his broom and making his way down the spiralling stairs that led down into the castle.

She was left there in the November air, dazed and cold, wondering what had just transpired between her and none other than Draco Malfoy.

oOo

A wicked grin took shape on Draco Malfoy's lips as he walked towards the Slytherin dungeons mere minutes after departing the tower.

He certainly had not intended for things to go so seamlessly. This clearly added a whole new dimension to his plan, though it certainly made things much easier.

He had not realized the terrible mental state in which Hermione Granger, golden Gryffindor extraordinaire, was currently in.

Emotional girls were the easiest to manipulate, though he knew he had to take his time with her so as to not be found out. Nevertheless, if things continued to progress in the fashion in which they had this evening, he hardly thought force or even persuasion would be necessary to convince her.

He simply had to give her what she lacked, this of course being excitement, his personal specialty. He realized that she was in this state as an effect of realization. She had finally realized that her dear friends had used her for most of their years at Hogwarts, though not necessarily on purpose. But now, that they had no more real use for her, they grew cold and distant causing her to realize how alone she truly was in a world in which she was not meant to fit in.

A devastating thought.

He realized Potted probably did not intend to act this way, but these days he was too caught up in his little girlfriend to really pay any attention to his once best friend. As for Weasely, he was just a hormonal adolescent, and a pervert at that. If being friends with Hermione meant not getting into her virginal, little knickers, then this particular relationship held no further interest to him.

In came Draco Malfoy.

He would, of course, play the role of the knight in shining armour, though dark knight seemed more appropriate, and save her from her dismal life. He would create an illusion so vivid for her she would never realize his real intentions. She would undoubtedly give herself to him purposely after he was done with her, and from there on life would surely be bliss.

Until he tired of her of course.

He possessed no illusion of loving her or any such ridiculous notion. He knew that his obsession was slightly more carnal than that.

He wanted her.

He had wanted her for some time now. He wanted the pleasure of possessing her and having her for himself. He was slightly disappointed, however, to learn that she would give in much easier than he first anticipated. It was clear that she was lonely, and even depressed, thus he doubted that she would put up much of a fight.

Nevertheless, his conquest would be truly delicious.

As he walked towards the common room entrance, he made it his goal to have writhing underneath him by the end of the month.

oOo

There you have it, chapter 3. I hope you like it so far. I'm in the middle of exams so I have not been able to post earlier, however the worst of them is over. I certainly intend to get a few chapters done over the break. Hope you enjoy! Please leave a review telling me what you think, suggestions, criticisms, etc...


	4. Chapter 4

The Hogwarts grounds were sprinkled in a thick layer of freshly fallen snow that accompanied the arrival of the winter holydays.

It was precisely a week before the start of the winter break.

The student body was busy running errands to Hogsmede as it was the last weekend before the break when they would be able to purchase last minute gifts and such. However, the majority of the female population of Hogwarts was busy with a much more important task. For you see, dear reader, in an attempt to somewhat alleviate the sullen mood that had engulfed the school as a result of the impending war, the professors had decided that a winter ball would be well suited.

Thus, our story finds Hermione Granger wondering the crowded streets of Hogsmede accompanied by Ginny Weasley and Lavender Brown. The latter two were currently engaged in animated chatter regarding their dresses and the makeup they planned for the upcoming ball, certainly matters of utmost importance. Hermione, however, was nowhere near as interested in the matter. She even debated not going, however, she was well aware that such a stunt would be unacceptable as she was head girl. Thus with a sigh of gloom, she attempted to push the miserable affair into the back of her thoughts, though it was rather hard considering it was the only thing people seemed to be talking about these days.

"Hermione, you never told me what you're going to wear? I'm dying to know!" questioned an overly excited Ginny, snapping Hermione out of her thoughts.

She considered the question for a few moments, gazing at the younger girl briefly before answering. "I'm not sure yet. I'm sure I have something in my closet that can be deemed suitable."

"You must be joking!" shrieked Ginny in astonishment.

"And a rather bad joke at that!" replied the equally shocked Lavender. "This is the event of the year and you mean to say you have yet to buy a dress! Hermione Granger, have you lost your mind?"

"Certainly not! I just, well, I don't quite understand what all the fuss is about," replied Hermione, stubbornly. "It's just a bloody ball, nothing special. I might just wear the robes I wore in fourth year to the ball."

"You will most certainly do no such thing!" gasped Ginny, grabbing Hermione's forearm and dragging her into a different direction than the one they had previously been walking in.

"Where are we going?" asked Hermione, attempting to pull free.

"To find you a dress, of course!" replied Ginny brightly. "And there will be no arguing, mind you."

The trip to Gladrags Wizardwear was not a very long one, and within minutes, Hermione found herself in the formal wear section, surrounded by rows upon rows of extravagant dresses. Lavender and Ginny were flipping through the dresses throwing the ones that deemed suitable across one of the fitting room chairs while Hermione gloomily wondered around. There was nothing in particular that caught her eye, but she decided to give in none the less.

She did not have the energy to fight them.

"I'm thinking red or gold, in honour of our house. She is head girl so she might as well show some house pride," murmured Ginny as she examined a puffy red dress.

"Oh or pink! I just love pink don't you?" gasped Lavender holding a piece of fabric that was far too revealing to be deemed a formal dress.

After what seemed like an eternity, Hermione was finally ushered into the fitting room by the two excited girls and instructed to try on each and every one of the gazillion dresses pilled high on the chair. Sceptically glancing at the pile, she immediately eliminated the ones that were downright preposterous before commencing to try anything on.

Most of Ginny's choices were truly horrifying piles of suffocating taffeta bathed in seas of gaudy sequins. On the other hand, many of the garments Lavender chose were made out of thin strips of material connected at strategic angles so as to not fall right off. Hermione had difficulty figuring out how to put most of them on as the lack of fabric was truly startling.

After about half an hour and what felt like a million dresses later, Hermione came out wearing the last one left in the pile , a burgundy number that tied around her neck and fell asymmetrically, one side around her knee while the other to the floor.

Hermione surveyed herself in the mirror, scrunching her nose in disapproval. For one, the dress was too big around the bust making her appear ungracefully manly. Furthermore, the material which was most likely synthetic due to its exaggerated sheen did not clothe her figure very gracefully as it wrinkled and clung to all the wrong bits.

"Overall, a disaster," muttered Hermione, as she turned around to re-enter the change room and done her normal wear. "Frankly, I don't particularly like any one of them."

"But Hermione," whined Lavender. "What about the strawberry pink one? I think that it looked stunning on you."

"Yes certainly, apart for the fact that if I bend even slightly I would make every male in the room quite happy," muttered Hermione sarcastically.

"But you have to pick something, Hermione," said Ginny. "Otherwise you'll have nothing to wear!"

"Yes I assure that I will make an effort and find something that I like, as impossible as it may be. Are there any other dress shops that you two may know of?" she asked feeling a pulsing headache coming on.

"Well, there is that one place on the north side of Hogsmede, next to the tea shop," replied Lavender slowly.

"Oh yes I know the one you're talking of. But blimey is it ever expensive. I walked in with Padma one day and we nearly ran out after seeing the prices," replied Ginny. "They did have some beautiful dresses however, all silk and lace."

"Well I might as well pay them a visit. I really have nothing to loose," replied Hermione as she put her cloak back on and gather her things. "You two can go ahead without me. If I remember correctly we were supposed to meet Harry and Ron at the Three Broomsticks."

"Are you sure you don't mind going alone, Hermione?" asked Ginny, though it was evident she did not care much for the answer as the thought of seeing her boyfriend thrilled her even more than dress shopping.

"I'm certain. I know I can be quite difficult in regards to these things so there is really no point in dragging you two along as well," answered Hermione, a genuine smile touching her lips though it was caused by the fact that she would finally have some peace.

The three girls parted ways in front of the store, and Hermione soon found herself making her way down a far less crowded road towards the dress store. She noted that not that many students frequented this part of Hogsmede, and silently prayed that she would not bump into anyone upon reaching her destination.

She really needed some alone time.

As she battled the cold wind and sudden flurries of snow, she reasoned that it was not completely unreasonable to visit this store. It may be more expansive, however, the dresses she had seen at Gladrags really did not impress her. Many were completely tasteless, made out of cheap synthetic materials. She preferred to pay a bit more for a quality piece that she would enjoy wearing rather than buy something that she was not completely infatuated with. Her mother had always taught her to pick quality over quantity and to buy items made out of natural materials such as cotton, silk and linen, rather than synthetics. She had not been raised to be snobby but had always been taught to pick the finer things in life as any true lady would. Those lessons had always stayed with her, often preventing her from ever purchasing items that were impractical yet all the rage, in exchange for more sensible, timeless items.

She finally reached her destination and glanced up at the sign of the store which read "Madame Du Maurier's Fine Wear". She hesitantly entered the store, noting how drastically it differed from Gladrags. This was certainly a much classier place, though it was currently empty. A tall, elegant woman stood behind the counter. She wore dark grey robes and her blonde hair was coiffed into a simple yet elegant chignon.

"Hello," muttered Hermione, slightly unsure of herself in the extravagant setting.

"Hello, dear. How may I help you today?" replied the woman, in a surprisingly pleasant tone.

"Well you see, I'm looking for a gown," replied Hermione looking around, "for the ball."

The woman coolly appraised her before walking around the counter and among the racks. "I'm surprised you came here, my dear. Much of the younger set, save for a certain few, generally choose Gladrags," she commented as she browsed through the racks. Hermione wrinkled her nose in disgust, earning a slight chuckle from the elder woman.

"I already went there but I daresay I was quite disappointed," replied Hermione. "Their wear was far to exaggerate, not to mention that they certainly lack in quality."

"A young woman with taste," commented the elder woman as she eyed her keenly. "I come across fewer and fewer such people every day."

The compliment earned a slight smile from Hermione as she too began to look through the racks of expensive dresses. She picked out two dresses that suited her taste, one midnight blue and one in silver before making her way towards the back of the store.

"I picked out a few that I thought might suite you quite well," stated the shop owner as she prepared a spacious fitting room for her. "Go ahead and try them on. If you need any help you shall be able to find me in the front," she said before pulling the curtain.

Hermione sighed in relief, pleased by the tranquil atmosphere offered by the store as well as by the welcoming yet not fawning nature of the shop owner. She set out and tried each dress, marvelling at the softness of the fabrics and perfect detail in which the material was worked.

She liked each and every dress, however, she felt that she had yet to find the one that truly stood out. The last dress she had to try on was the silver one that she had picked out earlier. Once securely dressed, Hermione walked out of the fitting room to examine herself in the large, three panel mirror. She gasped in surprise upon seeing herself.

The gown truly was stunning, though slightly more revealing than she would have preferred. It was made out of fine silvery silk that delicately draped her body and accentuated her best features. It fell to the floor in delicate drapes that formed a slight train behind her, while a rather provocative slit ran across her right knee. The top part was fitted with an inner corset secured to her torso. Two snake like stripes of silvery sequins and crystals were stitched across the front, intersecting along the left side. One of the stripes crossed her right shoulder and snaked its way across her bare midback to the left side of the dress, perfectly holding the material in place.

The fineness of the material made her feel like royalty, though she wondered if it was perhaps too extravagant. A lazy clapping snapped her out of her trance as she hurriedly turned around to find none other than Draco Malfoy eyeing her from across the room. He carelessly sat on the waiting room sofa, with his arms behind his head and legs lazy draped across the sofa.

"Bravo, Granger. I didn't think you had it in you," he drawled. "I thought that my little challenge would be met by deaf ears but apparently, you chose to pleasantly surprise me instead."

"W-what do you mean?" she stammered, feeling slightly uneasy by the way his hungry eyes locked onto hers. He stood up then, advancing towards her with the strides of a graceful predator. He proceeded to slowly circle her, examining the dress up and down before finally meeting her eyes once more.

"I mean this," he gestured to her dress. "It's certainly stunning, but it's much riskier than anything I ever pictured you as picking out."

"It is rather revealing isn't it?" muttered Hermione, attempting to cover herself.

"On the contrary, it's quite perfect. Quite... Slytherine of you if I do so say so myself," he continued.

"Slytherin? How so?" she questioned in alarm. It certainly wouldn't do for the head girl to be supporting the Slytherins, especially considering the whole Gryfindor-Slytherin matter. And of course the whole muggleborn-prejudiced bigots matter had to be taken into consideration as well.

"Well, it is silver. Have you forgotten, little kitten?"

"It's grey thank you very much," she replied in outrage. Really, even if it was silver why did it mater? There was not a single sprinkle of green on the damn thing, and that was what really mattered.

"Keep telling yourself that, kitten. Nevertheless, I daresay our little chat had quite the positive effect, hmm?" he said, moving closer and gently grabbing her chin, tilting it upwards until their eyes locked. "I think I may even see a trace of that little spark back in your eyes."

She gazed into his eyes for a few long moments, fire clashing with ice, before she allowed a small grin to take form upon her pouty lips. "What do you want, Malfoy?" she asked, turning around to inspect the dress once more.

"Is that a smile? My, my Granger, I'd say you like me more than you let on," he said, walking behind her and looking over her should in the mirror. "As for your previous question, do you really think you're the only one that needs dress robes?"

His answer caused Hermione to actually glance at what he was wearing, and indeed he had on a smart pair of midnight black dress robes. They fitted similarly to a muggle tuxedo though they came with a black cloak that was carelessly thrown across the sofa. The jacket was tailored in a way that clearly depicted its quality and price, fitting both his broad shoulders and abdomen snugly instead of forming the boxy outline common to poor quality clothing. The trousers seamlessly fit his long muscular legs without forming a single crease. On his feet he wore shoes of patented black leather that ended in sharp circular points, making even his feet look elegant.

Overall, Hermione had to admit that he was quite the picture of aristocratic perfection.

"My, don't the two of you make the dashing couple," commented the shop owner from the doorway as she surveyed them, a pleased smile gracing her thin lips. "I only wish there were more tasteful young people such as yourselves. Merlin only knows what this world is becoming!"

"Oh we're not..." started Hermione but stopped as the woman had already walked away shaking her head. She quickly glanced back into the mirror her eyes meeting Malfoy's own amused ones. She felt a deep blush starting to form upon her cheeks, and immediately moved to run back into her fitting room but was stopped by an arm draping across her abdomen, holding her in place.

"I hope you plan on purchasing this gown," he whispered, his breath burning her skin. "If not, _I_ will be buying it _for_ you. Think this dress as representing the second step you are to take on your path to reinvention, kitten."

Hermione merely nodded shakily before pulling away from him, though he did not pose any resistance. She immediately walked back into her fitting room, no risking another glance. Once safely inside the draped confines she rested her back against a nearby wall, trying to catch her breath.

She was not quite sure why she had reacted that way.

It was just bloody Malfoy after all.

The enigma that was Draco Malfoy.

Merlin, since when did Malfoy start having such an effect on her. For a second, Hermione thought back to the shop owner's words, allowing a brief smile to form on her lips. Ha, them a couple. Wouldn't that be a disaster? They would probably hex each other to oblivion, not to mention the sensation such a pairing would create within the school, and the entire magical population for that matter.

For the briefest of seconds, however, she thought that it would be rather nice to have someone, anyone really.

Merlin did that ever sound desperate! She pushed all other Malfoy related thoughts out of her head before she gave herself a seizure. She quickly changed back into her regular clothing, glancing longingly at the dress.

She had yet to make up her mind.

It really was rather extravagant, but oh so beautiful. It wasn't in the least bit gaudy like the ones Ginny and Lavender had forced her to try on.

But what would everyone think?

After long deliberation, she concluded that she was really giving the whole matter far too much attention. Since when did she or anyone else, for that matter, care what she wore. She knew enough about human psychology to recognize egocentrism. There was after all some theory or another that stated that people tended to think everyone's eyes were on them at any given moment, good or bad, though that really wasn't the case.

Wizards were human too, slightly more advanced mind you, but still human, so why would the same logic not apply to them as well?

That thought in mind, Hermione decided no one would spare a second glance at what she wore, thus she grabbed the dress and made her way towards the front of the store. On her way there, she gratefully noted that Malfoy seemed to have disappeared, which helped in relaxing her nerves a bit.

"Have you made your selection, my dear?" asked the owner, eyeing the hanger.

"Yes, I do believe this gown is quite perfect," replied Hermione, eyeing the silk in her hands.

"A stunning selection. I find that a strange thing happens when picking out dresses. It's as if one can feel it in one's bones when one finds the perfect dress," she stated as she placed the dress inside a tissue lined box. "It's magic."

Hermione kept silent, though she mentally agreed with the woman's words. It was an inexplicable feeling though it certainly existed.

She had to turn a blind eye when paying for the garment, as it came up to more than a sensible person would ever pay but she decided she deserved a small treat. Furthermore, she was sure that there would be many weddings to wear it to once the year ended so it really wasn't a waste at all.

By the time she reached the grounds of Hogwarts, she had successfully convinced herself of the value of her purchase. Furthermore, Malfoy's words continued to resonate through her brain causing her to conclude that it would have been far more embarrassing to have him buy it for her. She certainly did not want him to think it was in regards to money...

oOo

If anyone is intersted in seeing the dress, it's Elie Saab, haute couture, spring/summer 2008 dress number 50 which can be seen on the Elie Saab website. There's no point in me trying to post it in my profile as it is one of those links that only takes you to the homepage...

As for Malfoy, I picture him wearing one of those supper fited, Hugo Boss-esque tuxes. I think those really look amazing on guys!

The psychology reference is regarding a theory whose name or founder I can't be bothered to search, which states that we as humans always think that people's attention is always focused on us. However, that is rarely the case, not withstanding if it is in a moment of great success or great embarasment. SO next time you do something stupid in public, don't sweat it...

Lastly, I appologise for the spelling errors but being the smart person that I am, I somehow disabled spellcheck and I have NO IDEA how to get it back...


	5. Chapter 5

It was nine o'clock on Friday night, the night before the ball, and Hermione found herself waiting outside of the prefects office for her partner so as to commence their patrol. The old castle's walls were bitterly cold that night, the wind ghostly whispering through all of its cracks.

Hermione huddled herself within the warmth of her cloak, attempting to stay warm though somewhat failing.

"You know they have spells for that? And last I checked you were considered the smartest witch of our age, so use your wand, Granger," drawled a familiar voice form behind her. Hermione clenched her eyes shut tight for a few seconds, praying that it was just the wind playing tricks on her tired brain.

She really did not feel like dealing with Malfoy tonight.

Really!

Sadly, as she turned around, reopening her eyes, there stood Malfoy in all of his blond, aristocratic glory. She half expected for his cloak to start billowing around his body just so as to fully establish the desired effect, but alas, no such humour seemed to exist in the universe at that moment.

"Malfoy," she greeted stiffly. "Dare I ask what you are doing here?"

"I'm here to escort you on tonight's patrol, of course," he replied, grinning at her reaction. Hermione took a deep cleansing breath before continuing.

"Is that so?" she asked, arching a thin eyebrow in mock astonishment. "And where, pray tell, is Blaise?"

"On a first name basis, eh? You wound me," he answered, dramatically patting the place just above his heart. He soon dropped all appearances, his face setting into a serious mask, "He's busy, asked me to take his patrol. So can we go or do I have to waste the entire night? It is Friday night, Granger, and as it is, you may have no life but I have places to be, people to do…"

She rolled her eyes in response, turning on her heel and proceeding to walk, expecting him to follow. "How very kind of you, Malfoy," she muttered. "I really must have insulted some minor deity out there and now, this is their revenge."

"Oh quit being dramatic, Granger," he drawled, catching up to her. "You know you love my charming wit and overall presence."

She only grunted in reply.

"It never fails to surprise me how ladylike you can be, Granger," he commented. "Tell me, is it a muggle thing or a spending to much time around Weasley thing?"

"Hmm let me see… It's more of a you always annoy me to bits, causing me to want to recapture that lovely moment we had in in third year type of thing," she answered sweetly.

He grimaced at the memory. "No but really, what the bloody hell's crawled and died up your arse? I certainly hope it wasn't a Weasly, as amusing as that may be," he asked, grinning at his own well placed jibe. His face suddenly contorted in confusion, before an illuminated, self satisfied smirk took shape upon his lips. "Wait I know! You're on the rag, aren't you?"

She did not bother answering, instead hitting him, hard, upside the head. "Ouieee, watch it I'm delicate!" he whined, earning a weathering glare. "So are you?"

"No I most certainly am not on the rag, as you so delicately put it," she hissed. "It's Friday, yeah? Maybe I happened to be tired like the rest of the world. Did you ever stop to take into consideration the fact that patrolling these halls is not exactly my idea of fun?"

He throughout for a second before replying in surprise, "No, actually. I learn something new every day."

She merely sighed in exasperation, choosing not to comment any further. They walked in silence for a while, having already checked about half of the castle. She glanced at her wristwatch , noting that it was already ten o'clock and they had yet to catch anyone roaming the halls, a strange fact for a Friday night.

"Where do you reckon everyone is?" she finally asked, looking at Malfoy. He regarded her silently, curiosity apparent in his silver eyes before finally answering.

"It's Friday night Granger," he said, slowly, almost as if he was talking to a child. "I don't know what you usually do, but the rest of us are generally busy, uh…. relaxing"

"Relaxing?" she repeated, eyeing him doubtfully. "What do you mean?"

"Merlin Granger, what do you think I mean? I mean people are out drinking, partying, getting a nice lay, you name it."

"Oh," she murmured, her cheeks staining bright red. "Yes of course, how silly of me."

"Merlin, what rock have you lived under your entire life?" he questioned rhetorically.

"Well pardon me for preferring other forms of relaxation and entertainment," she replied, angrily. "Just because I enjoy doing more valuable things with my time than getting unreasonably drunk or spreading my legs for every bloke that happens to come around does not mean that there is anything wrong with me."

"I see, well that's quite admirable. Tell me, have you _ever_ gotten drunk?" he questioned, his silvery eyes piercing hers, malicious intent clouding his orbs.

"I uh, well let me think," she stammered, completely forgetting about her previous anger. "There was that time during the Triwizard Tournament when… well no actually. I-I can't say that I have."

"I see," replied Malfoy, thoughtfully. "Well there's your problem right there."

"Problem?!"

"Yes problem. What have I told you about relaxing and taking a risk here and there?"

"B-but that's p-preposterous," she stammered, not able to formulate a proper statement.

"Maybe," he said, mysteriously before falling silent again. They walked in this strange silence for what seemed like hours until finally reaching the top floor. As they rounded a corner, they came face to face with a group of four Ravenclaws, no older than their fifth year. Malfoy smirked wickedly at Hermione before advancing towards the four of them, who were paralyzed in fear and surprise.

"You four, what are you doing out at this hour?" he hissed sternly. "Forty points from Ravenclaw! Now, before I decide to add some nice detentions to that, hand over that lovely bottle your hiding behind your back, blondy and be off to your commons."

"Y-yes, sir" they all replied in unison, scurrying off in fear of unleashing the famous Malfoy temper, but not before listening to his demand.

"Sir?" questioned Hermione in bewilderment.

"What can I say, I invoke respect," he replied cockily, examining the bottle with a trained eye.

"Whatever you say, Malfoy. I suppose we're done here, we just have to drop _that _off by Dumbledor's office," she said, turning to walk away.

"Nu-uh-uh-uh little, Gryffindor," he chanted in a sing song voice as he followed her."You had a problem, I do believe, and this here," he said twirling the bottle expertly, "is your solution."

"Oh no. No no no no no! I will most certainly do nothing of the like which you are suggesting, especially not with you!" she hissed in outrage, fearing someone might hear her.

"Oh contraire, ma cherie. Think of this as, uh, step three in my little remedy," he began smiling wickedly at her reaction. "i€ know you would certainly prefer doing other, more interesting things with me but there will be time for that later. Now, for the task at hand, and there will most certainly be no arguing or I'll tell the whole school you shagged Weasley."

"I've done no such thing! That's disgusting!" she gasped, shocked at his licentious implication.

"Oh, I know you haven't but the rest of them don't. Nor do I think he'd mind or even dispute such a lovely little rumour. Now let's go introduce you to the finer things in life, shall we?" he grinned. "I assume your chamber is out of the question nor is there any likelihood of you coming anywhere near the Slytherin commons, so I suppose the Room of Requirements will have to do."

"But…"

"I said no arguing!" he hissed, his eyes turning into dangerous slits of molten silver as he glared at her. He was surprised, though pleasantly so, by her reaction to Weasley. He had always been under the impression that she practically kissed the ground that oaf walked on, but it was not so, apparently.

Certainly made things easier for him.

He grabbed her forearm and firmly pulled her with him into the darkened halls of the ancient school until he reached his desired destination: a bare wall.

Malfoy glanced at her for a few brief seconds, his eyes clouded by mischief but also holding a question. She returned his long gaze, weighing her options though realizing defeat as it stared her in the eyes. She gave a slight nod, causing him to smirk in return before turning his gaze back towards the wall and closing his eyes.

Within a few moments, a door appeared within the previously vacant wall . Malfoy grabbed onto the handle pulling slowly.

"Ladies first," he mumbled, motioning for her to proceed forward. She did so silently, but nearly jumped out of her skin as she felt his palm gliding on her midback gently guiding her inside. She tried not to dwell on the simple gesture as she reasoned it was probably just instinctual, yet her mind would not listen to her. Every nerve within her body reacted at the slight touch and she felt her entire self tense in response.

For his own part, Malfoy felt her slight change in demeanour and smirked knowingly. He had searched for the right moment to touch her, though innocently enough, for he could almost feel her nerves jumping on end. He wondered if this simple gesture would push her over the edge.

It didn't.

She remained silent, surveying the room, which was simple enough.

Simpler than she would have expected him to pick.

Two armchairs and a sofa were lined around a low coffee table that faced a warm welcoming fireplace in whose hearth amber flames could be seen blazing . The room also had a large window facing the darkened Hogwarts grounds and the Black Lake, whose waters looked like pools of ink.

Ironically enough, a tray holding two intricate crystal decanters and a silver bucket of ice was placed in the centre of the coffee table, awaiting them.

Hermione strategically sat on one of the armchairs, avoiding the couch, and sitting in close proximity to him, at all cost. Luckily, the purple armchair was exquisitely plush and comfortable, so she really felt no need to move.

Malfoy took his time, taking long yet slow strides around the sofa before finally sitting down in the right corner, facing her. His gaze sought her own and held it for a few brief seconds while an actual smile seemed to slowly take shape upon his pouty lips, brightening his entire face.

The effect was truly spectacular and unlike anything she had ever seen take form upon his aristocratic features. She had seen anger take life upon his face, as well as seriousness, humour and even mischief. But never has she witnessed something close to, contentment?

It was then that Hermione noticed his lips, really noticed them, for the first time. He had feminine lips, berry red and pouty. His upper lip met in a perfectly curved cupid's bow, whereas his lower lip was slightly more swollen. The overall product was oh so kissable…

Kissable? Certainly not! Her mind screamed in indignation while her blood was on fire with something completely different.

The battle between rationality versus deep, suppressed passion was currently raging hard within her petite body, having a somewhat dazing effect. Malfoy continued to gaze at her, his features masked in neutrality though he could almost feel the torrent of emotion storming through her body.

And he was certainly pleased.

He grabbed the bottle of firewhisky, examining the label briefly. Certainly not the quality he was used to but it would do for their purpose. And he most certainly did not want to risk running down to his own room to grab something more suitable, for the "spell" she was under would surely be broken, and she'd be gone before he was even back. Thus, he opened the bottle, loaded both glasses with ice, and allowed the amber liquid to cascade over it, melting and mixing.

"Granger," he said conversationally as he handed her a glass. She was immediately snapped out of her reverie and took a sip of the drink before she even stopped to think about her action. The second the substance ran down her throat, however, she began coughing, shooting him a look of what could only be defined as disgust.

"Merlin, this is terrible! What are you trying to do, poison me, Malfoy?" she gasped, finally able to breath. He merely gave her a strange smile and proceeded to take a sip of his own drink, not even flinching.

"Don't worry your bushy little head, Granger. After half a glass you'll dub it sweeter than the ambrosia of the Gods. Now be a good girl and drink up before I get mad," he growled menacingly, for a brief second making her remember who he was.

Now that she thought about it, it was slightly alarming that nobody knew where, and with whom she currently was, except for Blaise perhaps. Even the Marauders Map would not give away her location so if Malfoy ever entertained any sick notions within that blond head of his, he could certainly live them out then and there.

He seemed to sense her drastic change in demeanour and gave her a lazy smirk before taking another sip. "Relax, Granger. I promise I don't bite," he drawled. "Now I think it's about bloody time that you learn to loosen up. I swear you're as tense as a stick, not to mention the one that's lodged up a certain part of your anatomy."

His comment earned him a dirty glare as she attempted to take another sip. It didn't seem as bad the second time round.

"I'm just glad your out of that whole depression episode. Rather unattractive if you ask me," he continued, licking his lips. "Denial, which is the current stage you're in, I can deal with."

"Did I miss the part where I became your charity case, Malfoy? I never took you for much of a weeping heart," she mocked, attempting to change the course of the discussion.

"It would be a bloody waste to allow you to self implode. As I told you before, I'm more observant than you give me credit for," he replied in a perfectly serious tone. "Now drink up! You won't get drunk just by sitting there."

"Hmm if I didn't know your type any better I'd say you were planning to take advantage of me," she laughed lightly, though became slightly uneasy in the assumption.

"My type?" he questioned, his eyes having become glacial while his tone was icy.

"Yes, I mean we all know you wouldn't touch a muggleborn such as myself in a million years," she replied attempting to keep her tone airy.

"Fishing for compliments is ever so common, Granger. I wish you'd learn," he mocked jokingly, though ice still shone through his eyes. "So I'm only ever going to say this once. I don't particularly care about blood, reason being there's as many oafs among purebloods as there is among everyone else, take Weasley for example. So surely we can't be that superior. As for you, well, you're right I could take advantage of this delicious situation, but I won't because when I do have you, and believe me, I will, I want you to be completely coherent, and begging me for it."

His answer caused her heart to beat rather fast. She did not miss his arrogant prediction, as she could not name it otherwise, but chose to deem it as being a simple complication of his attitude.

"I respect your honesty," she finally said, attempting to chose her words wisely though it was becoming slightly more difficult. His eyes were keenly focused on her, like a hawk eyeing its prey, as he poured her a second glass. "You and I, we get along just fine some of the time, when neither one of us is busy keeping up appearances. I think we may even loosely invoke the term friends, but let's leave it as that, shall we. No point in wasting our breaths for the sake of something that would never, in a million years happen."

"Indeed," replied Malfoy, not allowing a glimpse of emotion to mar his features. "A final word to the wise, though. Never say never."

oOo

So here's the next Chapter. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, I really appreciate your input and it all around motivates me to update.

In this chapter, I tried to show a different side of the two, which, though amicable, was meant to show that Hermione isn't like head over heels in love just yet. She still finds him annoying but intriguing as well. And her loneliness doesn't help the fact.

Hope you enjoy, and drop me a line when your done!!


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